


Mountain Dew Slushies

by orphan_account



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Heathers: The Musical References, M/M, Squips (Be More Chill)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21645667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Its been 5 years since the bomb went off at Westerburg High.Its been 5 years since Veronica Sawyer left Sherwood, Ohio.Its been 5 years since the so-called "SQUIP Incident" at Middleborough High.Its been 5 years since Jeremy Heere and Michael Mell last saw each other.5 years since they all left their problems behind to start new lives.But when the past comes back to finish what it started, maybe it's finally time to face the consequences.[DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE AS THE AUTHOR RAN OUT OF MOTIVATION FOR THE FIC. I APOLOGIZE FOR THOSE WAITING ON IT.]
Relationships: Heather Chandler & Heather Duke & Heather McNamara, Heather Chandler & Heather Duke & Heather McNamara & Veronica Sawyer, Jason "J. D." Dean & Michael Mell, Jason "J. D." Dean & Veronica Sawyer, Jason "J. D." Dean/Veronica Sawyer, Jeremy Heere & Michael Mell, Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell, Michael Mell & Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

It was just silence. 

Silence for the longest time possible.

Was this what it felt like to die? 

Was he dead? 

Was he even a he? 

The last thing he remembered was... 

What was the last thing he remembered? 

Shouting, smoke, fire... 

A girl dressed in royal blue...

_A gunshot, followed by an explosion._

"Sir! He's waking up!"

He opened his eyes, only to shut them tight against the glaring white light. His head hurt, and everything was blurry and muddled. 

"Can you hear me?" an unfamiliar voice asked. But it sounded too far away.

He slowly felt himself slipping back into the darkness.

"He's having another seizure!" 

"How unfortunate, I thought it would work this time. Sedate him. We'll try again later."

* * *

"Veronica! Hurry up! We're gonna be late!"

"I'll be right there!" Veronica said, brushing her hair frantically in an attempt to tame it. Giving up, she grabbed a scrunchie from the dresser table and tied her hair into a ponytail. 

"We still got 5 minutes." Betty said as Veronica got in, starting up the car. "Let's go!" 

That was the start of any other normal day in the life of Veronica Sawyer. After graduating highschool, she moved out of her home in Sherwood to a shared apartment with her old friend Betty Finn to study at Harvard. After graduating college, she and Betty got a job working for a news site; Betty as an editor and Veronica as a writer.

The office was very busy with the hustle and bustle of her coworkers running around. A man with blond hair approached her. 

"Veronica! Glad you're here! Mr. Lewis is asking us to work double time!"

"Right, thanks for the heads up Daniel!" She said as she headed off to her workspace. 

She wrote out the drafts of 4 articles before her boss came up to check on her. 

"We need to go a little faster Sawyer. They are complaining about the articles coming a second too late!"

"Yes sir." Veronica said. 

She had to endure her boss yelling at a few of her other coworkers for being too slow as well. Mr. Lewis wasn't exactly patient or understanding. However, Veronica had tried for quite a few jobs before this one and wasn't hired, so she can't just drop this one now.

This continued on for a week, until one day, she was greeted with several new faces once she got to the office. A tall, brown-haired man around her age was standing with her boss in front of her workspace, beside which a new computer was stationed. 

"Ah, there she is." Mr. Lewis grumbled. "Mr. Heere, you will be working here with Ms. Sawyer. Show him what to do. We're expecting the new articles to be written out in 2 hours."

Veronica nodded. "I'm Veronica Sawyer." She held her hand out. 

"Jeremy Heere." He shook it. "Pleasure meeting you, Veronica."

"Well Jeremy, the job is quite simple. We just have to write an article about the reports they give us. You don't have to worry about spelling and grammatical errors too much, our editors will fix any they find." She explained to him.

"Well, I guess it's quite simple." Jeremy said. "I'm not much of a writer, but I'll try my best!"

"Right, now get back to work!" Mr. Lewis said as he left. 

"OK..." Jeremy looked at Veronica nervously. "Where do we start?" 

They were able to get the work done somehow. While Jeremy's writing lacked some of the words to get the reader's attention, it wasn't too bad. It was also a good thing he learned quite easily.

"I didn't exactly want to be a writer." Jeremy said. "The job is fine, but it's not really my passion."

Veronica quirked an eyebrow. "What was your ideal job then?"

"Something to do with computers. Programming probably." He sighed. "My friend Michael would have been great at that."

"Why did you get this job then?" Veronica asked. 

"This was the only open job opportunity. I didn't exactly have a choice." Jeremy shrugged. 

A notification popped up on the screen. It was a new report.

_Girl Commits Suicide At The Age Of Seventeen_

Seventeen.

The age Heather Chandler died. 

The age her teen angst bullshit had a body count. 

The age in which she ended up making the biggest mistakes of her life.

"Veronica?" Jeremy waved a hand in front of her face. "You've been staring at the screen for about 5 minutes." 

"Oh." Veronica blushed, embarrassed. "I must have zoned out back there."

She resumed her work immediately, pushing all thoughts of her senior year to the back of her mind. 

Later that night, she and Betty discussed their day over dinner, which Betty cooked. 

Spaghetti, with lots of oregano. Just the way she liked it.

"So," Betty took a bite of her pasta. "You got a new partner to work with, huh?"

"Nearly all of us did." Veronica said. "It did help quite a lot with the workload."

"You got pretty lucky though, your coworker is pretty cute. Why don't you ask him out?"

"Betty, I only knew the guy for a day." Veronica rolled her eyes. "Besides, I already told you, I'm going to focus on other things first before my dating life."

"That's what you said last year, and the year before that." Betty sighed. "Look Veronica, I know everything that happened in senior year shook you pretty bad. Heck, I have no idea what you're possibly feeling, I wasn't even there! But as your friend, I'm trying to help you. You've... Changed. You're less open to friends and family than before." She was concerned. "Your mom even sent me an email about how you weren't answering any of her messages."

Veronica gave her a sad look. "I know. Betty, I'm trying to be more open and social and shit, I really am. I just need some more time."

Betty stood up and gave her a hug. "Okay. I'm gonna go hit the hay now. We have to be up early again tomorrow." 

"Sure. Goodnight Betty." 

As Betty went to her room, Veronica stayed behind to wash dishes. As she did, she let her thoughts drift back to her senior year. 

_"You know what I want babe? Cool guys like you out of my life."_

_"His solution is a lie! No one here deserves to die! Except for me and the monster I created!"_

_You aren't responsible for his actions. Remember that._

And Veronica did remember. She wasn't responsible for poisoning Heather Chandler, wasn't responsible for killing Kurt and Ram.

Wasn't responsible for his death. His suicide.

"God Veronica, is that what you tell yourself each night to help you sleep?" 

Veronica jumped and almost dropped the dishes she was holding.

"You're not real." Veronica said. "I haven't had a conversation with you in 5 years." 

"That doesn't make me any less real." The ghost of Heather Chandler materialized out of nowhere. "I knew you were delusional, but for you to think that you had no part in everything that had happened sometimes makes me think you drank the Draino."

"He was the one who poured it there. I didn't-"

"You didn't bother to check." Chandler cut in. 

"It wasn't my fault!" 

"And yet you didn't stop him when I fell down dead! You could have checked the cup. You could have called the cops, but _no._ Instead, you let him go and assisted him with 3 more deaths, including his very own suicide."

"Shut up Heather!" Veronica shouted. "I don't need you to tell me things I already know! Your opinion doesn't matter because you're _dead_! You're nothing more than a figment of my stupid imagination!" 

"Veronica? Is everything alright?" Betty came out of her room. 

Veronica glanced over at where Heather Chandler was standing. There was nothing more than an empty space. "It's nothing Betty, I'm just tired."

Betty frowned. "You can tell me anything, remember that."

"I know. Its just the stress of this week getting to me. I'm fine, really."

"If you say so." She went back to her room.

Veronica showered and curled up in her bed. She thought about the conversation she had with Heather Chandler. 

_She's been dead for 5 years now. It's just your imagination running wild because of that one article._

With that, Veronica quickly fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

"Good, you're finally awake. Do you remember your name?"

He blinked. He looked around to find himself in what appeared to be a hospital bed, with a man in a lab coat holding a tablet sitting in front of him.

"I-I don't..." He said, confused. How could he forget his own name?

"I see... What is the last thing you remember?" The man asked in a calm voice.

He closed his eyes and tried to bring up the last thing he remembered. He came up blank.

"You don't have to force yourself if you don't remember." The man gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm Dr. Winslow Brown."

"Where the hell am I?" He asked Dr. Brown.

"You're at the Two River hospital in New Jersey." Dr. Brown said. "You were driving your car when something went wrong with the engine and it blew up. Luckily for you, it wasn't fatal, and we were able to heal all your injuries. However, it seems that you have memory loss from the brain damage."

He frowned. "Who the hell am I then? How long have I been here?"

Dr. Brown pressed his lips together. "Your name is James Davidson. You've been here for about a month now. We weren't able to find any immediate family or friends to contact. Unfortunately, I couldn't find anything related to your past life, except for the fact that you might have been a construction worker."

"James Davidson." He said, trying out the name.

Something wasn't right.

"I'm sure this must all be very confusing for you." Dr. Brown said. "I'll give you some time to rest. In the meantime, feel free to watch TV."

Dr. Brown left the room. Turning on the TV, "James" had found an entire library of movies and shows to watch, but found nothing interesting.

He tried standing up. He felt a little sore, but he was able to do it. Looking at himself, he saw the outline of several scars and burn marks all over his skin. Besides the door that was the exit, another door led to a small bathroom with a complete set of clothes. The clothes were nothing more than a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a white shirt. He changed clothes and sat back down on the bed, trying to sort this mess. Everything pertaining to academic and practical knowledge was still there, but memories were blurred and his head ached as he tried to remember. 

_"Your name is James Davidson. You've been here for about a month now. We weren't able to find any immediate family or friends to contact."_

He tried to recall any significant names that he knew, anything that could help him figure out what was going on, but still came up blank. 

_That can't be it. I can't just remember nothing._

_"Your name is James Davidson."_

James Davidson. James D. J.D.

_J.D._

For some reason, he felt more comfortable using the initials then his own name.

The room quickly bored him, and he was considering going out the door.

Maybe he'll find some actual answers.

He gently opened the door and peeped through. The door opened up to a mostly empty hallway. No one was there. Sneaking out, J.D. gently closed the door, not making a sound. There were apparently other rooms further down the hallway. 

He found the next few doors to be locked. One was the entrance to a broom closet. Some of the rooms had windows, where J.D. could see containers ranging from tiny vials to huge bottles containing some sort of liquid. Others had very complex gadgets that J.D. hadn't seen before.

_This isn't your everyday hospital, that's for sure._

One room was filled with large, grey containers, and the entrance was labeled "SQUIPS". Whatever that was, he didn't know. 

The hallway branched out, and J.D.'s breath caught in his throat when he heard the sound of footsteps.

He quickly hid behind a corner. Whoever was down the hallway didn't seem to leave, and J.D. couldn't risk getting caught.

The hallway he was now in was darker than the rest, and a pale blue light was streaming through a curtain that hung over the window. 

Curiosity overcoming him, J.D. peeked through the curtain. The room seemed much larger than the rest. In the middle of it was a blonde-haired girl about his age lying on a bed, with a breathing mask over her face.

_This girl is familiar._

Throwing all caution to the wind, he tried turning the door handle.

It was unlocked.

Whoever had last been there didn't lock the door, whether accidentally or not. 

Sucking in a breath, he sneaked in. The girl on the bed didn't seem to stir. J.D. looked around for anything useful to him.

There was a file on her bedside table. J.D. silently opened it. There were a bunch of photos of the girl, along with her personal info and some notes. 

_#0014: Heather Chandler_

_Cause of Death: Poisoning via Drain Cleaner_

_Comes from a wealthy family. Said family has no knowledge of her revival. Police say her death was a suicide, but further evidence suggests otherwise._

The sound of the door opening again shocked him, and he quickly hid under the bed.

"You forgot to lock the goddamn door again!" Someone shouted from the hallway. 

"I just forgot something!" The man inside the room said. 

The man gathered up the papers and headed towards the door. 

_Shit. What now?_

Thinking fast, he spotted a nickel underneath the bed. He threw it to the wall opposite the exit. 

The man took the bait, and while he was distracted, J.D. silently ran out the door. 

He was fortunately able to get back to his room without getting caught or anyone noticing. For what seemed to be a high-tech building of sorts, it had some pretty shitty security. However, he wasn't exactly willing to risk escaping just like that. 

Besides that, he didn't find anything worth knowing. He basically wasted his time sneaking around. The only thing that piqued his interest was the so-called Heather Chandler. Who was she exactly? What did the article mean by evidence saying otherwise in regards to her supposeed "suicide"? 

_I have a feeling I know her somehow. And yet nothing rings a bell._

J.D. let his thoughts circle around Heather Chandler and who she was until he was tired. Lying back down on the bed, he stared at the ceiling until he finally fell asleep. 

If he was getting out of here, he needed more information, and he knows exactly where to get it. 

* * *

Jeremy Heere hadn't expected his life to end up here. Him as a writer/editor, stuck with his fellow co-worker Veronica, who looked twice as stressed as he was right now.

How exactly did he end up with a job like this? Not that the job was bad, —on the contrary, it's actually fine— it was just that it wasn't his _passion._ He'd much rather spend his time on developing his own video game, or make a gaming channel, where he and Michael would play various Multiplayer games until 3AM.

_Michael._

The memory of his best friend hit him like a truck. He hadn't seen or heard from Michael ever since they graduated. He tried countless attempts to contact him, but all his efforts ended in several unread messages and phone calls. Around that time as well, he tried to propose to Christine, but she had declined, saying she wasn't ready yet. After a few months, their relationship wasn't working out like they thought it would, and Christine had decided the best thing to do was to end it, saying that they were better off as friends. Jeremy and Christine still talked to each other every now and then. Apparently, she has a new boyfriend now named Mark, and Jeremy couldn't be happier for her.

Unfortunately for him, that left him alone, single, and trying to deal with his co-worker's stress-induced panic. 

"We have nearly 20 projects to finish in a week and we've only done 2 and we have to have an average of 4 per day or even more than that because Mr. Lewis is probably most going to give us more and I won't complete them in time and I'm gonna get fired and me and Betty will have to live in cardboard houses outside and scavenge the garbage can for food and-"

"If this is your way of calming down, it's not really working." Jeremy cut her rambling. "I've heard from the others that you're the best at your job, what's the worst that could happen?"

Veronica seemed to calm down a bit at that. "Right. You know what? What I need is a bit of a break. And a snack."

"Well, it is lunch break." Jeremy said. "I'm probably just gonna grab something at the nearby 7-11. You can come along, if you'd like."

"I have nowhere else to go anyways, why not?" She said as she grabbed her bag.

The nearest 7-11 was just a short walk away from the office. Jeremy grabbed a hot dog and went over to the freezer to grab a drink.

He scanned the options _. Coca-Cola, Fanta, Pepsi..._

_Mountain Dew._

He stared at the neon green bottle. He hasn't even touched Mountain Dew of whatever kind since the "incident".

_Its been 5 years... Surely it won't take effect anymore. Right?_

He grabbed a coke instead. He can't take the risk, especially since Mountain Dew Red isn't being sold anymore. If the Squip somehow reactivated, there would be no way to stop it.

After realizing he had been staring at the freezer for about 5 minutes, he went to check if Veronica was good to go.

Apparently, she was facing a similar situation with the slurpee machine. She was staring at the two flavors, cherry and blue raspberry, cup in hand, but was making no move to get from either of them.

"If you are having a hard time choosing, I understand. I couldn't make my mind up back then either." Jeremy said. 

Veronica tensed up a bit. "It's not that. It's just... I knew someone once who really loved slushies. We would go here nearly everyday to order one."

 _An ex perhaps?_ "I see. What happened?" 

Veronica winced slightly. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh. Sorry for prying."

"It's OK. I'm supposed to be over it anyways."

She ended up buying a cherry slushie along with a couple of granola bars, a sandwich, and some Twizzlers. 

Jeremy checked his watch. "We better head back. The sooner we finish, the better." 

Veronica nodded. "Then maybe we'll finally get a fucking break from all of this."

Jeremy tossed the empty soda can in the trash bin and cleared away all thoughts of Squips and Mountain Dew, instead focusing on the deadlines they have to meet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My schedule is erratic as hell. Updates will come whenever I have time, which can range from weekly updates to one month of hearing nothing at all from me. I appreciate kudos and comments though! They give me the motivation to write!


	3. Chapter 3

_Life with his parents got worse and worse every day. His dad would come home drunk, and beat the crap out of his mom before collapsing on the couch, or even the floor. Sometimes, his dad would try to go after him instead, and his mom resorted to hiding him in the backyard of the neighbors' houses. His mom refused to report his dad to the authorities for some reason, saying "there's still a good person in him somewhere". But at 10 years old, he knew that wasn't the case._

_After his dad's business started booming, they moved around a lot more often, to the point where their already-chaotic life got more hectic. He had to switch schools every 2-3 months, and his mom couldn't find any jobs, so she gave up on supporting the family._

_His mom was beginning to fall apart. He saw her get up in the middle of the night, grab her wedding photos and ring, clutch it to her chest, and then cry over it, mumbling to herself what had went wrong. She refused to see a doctor regarding her injuries, and ate less and less as the days passed by._

_Everything came to a head when his father decided it was a good idea to bring them along to work. As his dad was about to demolish a building using explosives, his mom ran away into the building. His dad didn't even care. He cried and shouted for his mother to come back, but to no avail. The building exploded, leaving a cloud of smoke in its wake._

_"MOM!" He screamed. "Why are you just standing there?! Do something Dad!" He shouted at his father, begging for him to do something._

_"She's dead you dumbass! Your mother chose to die! She left us both behind! She doesn't give a fuck about you or me! Now shut the fuck up! Throwing tantrums won't get your mommy back!" His father shouted._

_He ran away from his father, into the nearest bathroom stall, and cried until his throat was raw and his eyes were sore._

_The last he saw of his mother? She was waving through the window, a sad smile on her face. He didn't understand what that meant back then, and_ _never did._

* * *

J.D. woke up with a start. _That was way too vivid and detailed to be a dream._

He rubbed his eyes and looked around. Nothing had changed. He was still in the hospital room.

He had recovered a memory. It happened too long ago to be of any help to him now, but a memory nonetheless.

He had an abusive drunk for a father, who also happened to partially be the reason for his mother's suicide. 

_Shouldn't I feel, I don't know, more depressed over this?_

Something was itching at the back of J.D.'s mind. The more he thought about it, the more fishy his entire situation became. If he had amnesia, shouldn't the doctors be working on helping him get his memory back? Not only that, how was he still able to remember things he learned in school but not his life in general?

In fact, he doesn't even remember his own age.

A nurse suddenly barged into the room. "Hello there! I do hope you're feeling better, we're going to run a few tests on you to see if you are perfectly well and if you can be discharged from the hospital."

The nurse motioned for him to follow, and he did. 

The nurse led him down a floor to a different room. His hopes of finding out more about his case were crushed when he saw all the people running around. The security cameras also seemed to be active on this floor. It made up for the shitty surveillance on the floor he was on.

The room was a combination of the typical hospital room and an interview room. Dr. Brown was sitting on one of the chairs there.

"Seems like rest has done you well. Have a seat."

He sat down on the posh-looking chair, while the nurse simply stood in the corner.

"We'll see if you have any other medical conditions we need to tend to." Dr. Brown said.

"But how about my memory?" J.D. asked. "Is there really no hope of getting it back?"

"I'm afraid not." Dr. Brown said. "We tried countless times to try and recover your memory, but nothing worked. You were actually conscious during that time, however I doubt you remember that happening."

J.D. frowned. "Is there absolutely nothing you know or can do?"

"Like I said before, you were most likely a construction worker of some sort. The only info we got on you was your name, as your ID was half destroyed in the explosion. The person who brought you here was a stranger who didn't know who you were." Dr. Brown explained. "Anyways, we'll be running the tests now."

It felt like any other regular checkup, and it was over pretty quickly.

"It seems like you're all good to go. However, we prescribe this for optimal health recovery."

Dr. Brown gave him a small, gray, oblong pill, and—oddly enough— a bottle of Mountain Dew.

"Mountain Dew?" J.D. raised an eyebrow at what his doctor was giving him.

"The pill has a horrible aftertaste, so we give the patients' this to help them drink it.

J.D. took the pill and the soda skeptically. _What kind of doctors give their patients Mountain Dew?_

Just as he was about to down the pill, a man around his age slammed his fist at the door window and yanked it open.

"Well if it isn't Bo Diddley! Seems like one ass beating wasn't enough huh? Let's see if Veronica still likes you after I punch your face off!"

The man moved fast, and punched J.D. in the face before he could even react. It hurt, but it wasn't the worst blow he recieved.

He was held back by three of the nurses. "I gave you specific instructions to keep them contained!" Dr. Brown said as they were struggling to get the man out of the room. 

Meanwhile, amidst all the chaos, J.D. ended up staring at the scene, frozen with shock. All of a sudden, he knew who this guy was exactly.

_Kurt Kelly. He was the quarterback at Westerburg High._

* * *

_"You shouldn't have bowed down to the swatchdogs and Diet cokeheads." He said to the blue-clothed girl standing in front of him. "They're going to crush that girl."_

_"I'm sorry, what?" She asked. "That's none of your business."_

_"True," He shrugged. "but unlike everyone else in this school, you have a soul. You should work on keeping it clean. After all, we're all born marked for evil."_

_His obscure quote didn't even faze her. In fact, it only intrigued the girl even more._

_He was about to walk away when she tried to tap his shoulder. "Excuse me, you can't just quote Baudelaire at me and then walk away. I didn't catch your name."_

_He smirked. "I didn't throw it."_

_After that, he resumed reading his book.  
_

_"Who does that guy in the jacket think he is? Bo Diddley?" one of the jocks behind him said. From what he remembered, his name was Kurt Kelly._

_"Veronica's into his act, no doubt." Another jock mumbled. This one was Ram Sweeney. He was always with Kurt, wherever he went._

_"Let's kick his ass!" Kurt yelled. "Hey sweetheart! What did your boyfriend say when you moved in to Sherwood, Ohioooo?"_

_Kurt held him in a headlock, blocking him from one side, while Ram blocked the other._

_"My buddy Kurt just asked you a question." Ram sneered while aggressively hitting J.D.'s head._

_"Doesn't the cafeteria have a 'no fags allowed' policy?" Kurt asked while Ram snickered._

_"They seem to have an open door policy for assholes though." That's all J.D. said before beating up the other two using his book. He was suddenly thankful the one he brought was about as thick as a Bible._

_Kurt threw a rather weak punch at him in retaliation, and it hilariously missed. He kicked him once more in the nuts before shoving him to the ground._

_While everyone was either watching with excitement or calling a teacher to deal with the issue, he caught the girl from awhile ago looking at him with— admiration? She gave him a smile, and he found himself smiling back. Even when he was eventually called into the office for an explanation, he still thought of her._

_They said her name was Veronica Sawyer, and for the first time in J.D.'s life, learning the names mattered._

_He saw her again later after school, at the local 7-11. Funny how fate decided that they should meet again._

_"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" Veronica had asked him._

_"Jason Dean. J.D. for short."_

* * *

"He fainted sir!"

"Wake him up then! We spent too much time on him to let it go to waste."

J.D. jolted upright. _What they told him was a lie._

Dr. Brown looked relieved. "Are you alright James?"

J.D. looked him in the eye. "My name is Jason Dean. My father was Bud Dean. He owned a deconstruction company."

"He's remembering." Dr. Brown's eyes widened in shock and horror. Suddenly, two guards from outside pinned him down to the nearby chair. 

"Give him the pill now!" Dr. Brown shouted. 

The gray pill from awhile ago was roughly shoved into his mouth along with the Mountain Dew. They were right about one thing; the pill tasted bitter and metallic. 

He spat the pill out and shoved the two guards to the ground. While they were distracted, he made a break for the door. 

_"Attention!"_ He heard over the intercom. _"Number 17 has gone rogue and is escaping the compound."_

All eyes were on him immediately, and he ran faster than before, avoiding security as much as possible. Guards in suits were following him through the hallways. If he didn't act fast, he'd lose all hope of escaping.

"There he is!" 

Nearly a dozen of them started running towards him. Thinking quickly, he pulled the fire alarm. It wasn't his best idea, but the commotion it made was able to distract them long enough for him to escape. J.D. ran and ran, not even sure where the hell he was going. He ran for what felt like miles before realizing he had literally nowhere to go. He hadn't recovered all of his memory yet, and he was totally unfamiliar with this place. He remembered that his dad brought him to New Jersey for 5 weeks at the most, then they had to leave again. It's not like J.D. was interested in exploring back then anyway.

He walked down the road. It was pavement as far as the eye can see in front of him. There weren't any signs of a town nearby either.

 _At this rate, they'll catch up, and complete whatever screwed up experiment they were trying to do._ He thought.

The sun was setting, and J.D. was starting to get worn out. He had just woken up from a coma. He shouldn't be pushing himself this hard. 

Luckily for him, the road finally led to a small town. He sighed in relief before realizing he had no money.

_Well fuck._

He walked around the streets, not knowing what to do. He caught his reflection in one on the shop windows. He looked horrible. There was a bruise on his left cheek from the punch, and his clothes were stained with dirt. J.D. realized he didn't remember the last time he looked in a mirror. He wondered if his past self looked anything like the person he saw in the window. He wondered what his past self would be doing if he hadn't gone into a coma.

What _had_ happened anyway? Everyone kept telling him his injuries were from the explosion of the car crash, but it was very, very possible that it was a cover-up for something else. Speaking of which, were they even qualified doctors? Who the hell was Dr. Brown? Why would they let him stay in an amnesiac state?

His head began hurting again. He really needed to rest.

He sat down on the side of a building where hopefully no one would find him. His eyes were about to droop shut when he was alerted by several SUVs coming in around him. Guards he saw from awhile ago came out from said SUVs.

_Shit._

He darted to the back of the building and as far away from them as he can. Running out of town was out of the question. They'd find him immediately. 

He silently creeped around the corner of the next building. He was greeted with the neon lights of the 7-11 sign.

_You've got to be joking._

He went inside as normally as someone being chased down could. He hid behind one of the shelves, pretending to scan the chips aisle. Near the counter was the slurpee machine, and J.D. was tempted to buy one.

_You're on the run from what seems to be the freaking mafia. You can't seriously be thinking about ordering slushies now. Besides, you have no money._

The door opened and J.D. froze before realizing it was a normal customer. 

"Are you alright? You've been standing there for a while." The cashier said. Strangely observant for someone working at a 7-11. He has seen situations where two people could literally be trading drugs and the guy at the counter wouldn't give a fuck. 

"I'm fine." J.D. said. "Is there a restroom here?"

The cashier shook his head. "Sadly, no. The 7-11s in Japan do however. Sometimes I wonder why we can't do that here."

J.D. spotted one of the guards outside. "What's your name?" He asked the cashier. 

"Michael." Michael looked at him oddly. "Why—"

"Okay Michael, I need to use the storage room real quick. In case anyone asks, you saw no one."

"Wait what?" He said in confusion. 

"It is very, very important that I don't get caught." J.D. said.

"That still doesn't answer my question."

J.D. hid in the storage room before he could answer Michael. He locked himself in and pressed his ear to the door to hear what was happening outside.

"May I help you?" Came the voice of Michael from outside. 

"We're looking for this man here. He is a patient who escaped from the Two River psychiatric hospital. Have you seen him? Or anyone who could potentially be him?"

A beat of silence followed. "I haven't. No one who looked like that came in today."

"I see. However, we need to check surveillance cameras to make sure."

"Ehem... About that..." Michael said. "The cameras have been broken for about two weeks now. My manager hasn't resolved the issue yet."

There was silence for about 5 minutes. "Well then, thank you for your time and cooperation." The guard said. 

J.D. let another 5 minutes pass before opening the door again. 

"Psychiatric hospital?" Michael said in shock. "Dude, you need-" 

J.D. shushed him. "Let me explain."

"Explain why a bunch of scary guards are outside looking for you? Are you a criminal? Give me a reason why I shouldn't turn you in."

J.D. pulled him inside the storage room. Luckily for them, it wasn't cramped. 

"Listen. Those guys don't work for a psych ward. They wiped my memory somehow and tried to force me to take some sort of weird pill! With Mountain Dew!" J.D. hissed. 

Michael's face paled. "A pill? With _Mountain Dew?_ " 

"It sounds stupid, but trust me—" 

"What did the pill look like?" Michael interrupted. 

J.D. gave him a weird look. "Small, grayish, oblong—" 

"Holy shit." Michael gasped. "You sure you didn't swallow it or anything?" 

"Of course not! I spat it out." He said. "Why are you so interested in the pill anyway?" 

"Dude, that might have been a Squip" 

J.D. raised an eyebrow. "A what?" 

"A SQUIP. It's a pill with a tiny computer inside that controls how you act around others. It's supposed to make you be 'cooler'." 

"That sounds more like taking the phrase 'take a chill pill' way too seriously." J.D. said. 

Michael gave him an incredulous look. "I'm not kidding! Someone went insane after trying to get it out of his brain. Back in my junior year, one of my classmates burned someone's house down trying to get rid of it! My very own best friend got Squiped and it nearly took over my entire school!"

"That's... Honestly a lot to process." J.D. said. 

"Hold on. My shift's about to end. We can talk more about this somewhere else." Michael said. "If what you almost drank was actually what I think it is, we're in more trouble than we thought."


	4. Chapter 4

"By the way, you never told me your name." Michael stated. 

"It's Jason Dean. J.D. for short." J.D. said. "Also, out of all the places you could choose, you chose a fucking Chuck E. Cheese's."

Michael had dragged J.D. to the arcade to talk about his situation in "privacy", if you consider several parents with their hyperactive kids private. 

"It's the last place they would look! Why would they bother checking a family arcade and restaurant for a runaway patient?" Michael said.

"Right." J.D. muttered. "Now tell me, what else do you know about Squips? And why the hell they would try to give me one?"

"The purpose of a Squip is to make the losers and geeks fit in and be cool. When my friend, Jeremy, bought it, we were told it was some sort of untested technology, and even the dealer doesn't know if it's still being produced or not. Normal green Mountain Dew activates the Squip. Mountain Dew Red shuts it down."

"I've seen a lot of Red Mountain Dew in supermarkets, so that shouldn't be a problem." J.D. said. From the description Michael gave, it was like doing drugs with specific kinds of Mountain Dew. 

"The one you saw is Mountain Dew CODE Red, which is different from Mountain Dew Red." Michael corrected. "Mountain Dew Red was discontinued in 1988: the same year it was released. It's so rare that I had to pay about $3,000 for one 2L bottle, and I already used that bottle to deactivate everyone's SQUIPs back at my school." 

"In other words, there's no way of saving anyone else who gets Squiped."

"Precisely. The thing was, when we deactivated the Squips back at my school, we thought that was the last of them. We didn't know there were still more."

"But why would they choose _me_ out of all people?" J.D. asked. "I don't remember everything, but I don't think I would be considered a "loser". An outcast maybe, but I distinctly remember being able to beat up two jocks back then."

"You beat up two jocks? At the same time?" Michael said in awe. "I mean, that's one way to keep them away."

"Look Michael, I'm as confused as you are. Like I said, they somehow wiped my memory. All I remember about myself is my name."

J.D. still remembered the bit about his parents, but he doubted Michael would want to hear about his daddy issues.

"So you can't remember anything at all? Even boring topics about school?" Michael asked. "Is it like those things in sci-fi movies? Like _Men In Black?"_

J.D. shook his head. "I remember anything related to logic, common sense, or basic knowledge, but besides that, nothing. Nothing about my personal life whatsoever." 

"Maybe you need something to jog your memory. That's what they do in movies." Michael suggested. 

J.D. stared at him. "Are you always this genre savvy? Life isn't a sci-fi movie."

"Well, we are talking about a supercomputer the size of a pill that is planning world domination." Michael shrugged. "Besides, back then, me and my friend Jeremy just pretended life was like a two player game; work together and you'll survive."

"Excuse me for asking now, but why are you so willing to help someone like me? I'm a literal stranger with amnesia. What would you get from this?"

Michael sighed. "Red Mountain Dew only disables the Squip, it doesn't get rid of it. It's still somewhere in Jeremy's head. I'm just pretty worried for him. Even after the incident, he said he could sometimes still hear the Squip trying to talk to him. If there's still people out there using it, there's a chance it might control him again."

"You sure talk about him a lot." J.D. said. "I don't think I've ever had a friend like that before."

Michael's face flushed pink. "Well, we were best friends."

He saw his expression falter for a moment, then resumed conversation. "So are you sure there's nothing we could start with for getting your memory back? Like, at all?" 

"The latest memory I got was beating up jocks at my old school for picking on me and getting in trouble for it."

Michael nodded. "Anything else? Wait, what was the name of your school?" 

J.D. thought for a second. "It was somewhere in Sherwood, Ohio. Wester-something..." 

"Westerburg High?" Michael said. "I've heard of that school before. That's the school that had 4 suicides in the same school year. It made the news about five years ago. It came up in an assembly about teen suicide and how bullying was a major problem and shit."

J.D.'s tensed suddenly and felt a shiver go down his spine. _Five years ago?_

Michael swiped on something on his phone and suddenly froze. "I found an article."

Michael handed the phone over to him. 

_**Fourth Suicide at Westerburg High Sends Students and Teachers Into Panic.** _

_A seventeen-year old male has been found dead on the football field of Westerburg High in Sherwood, Ohio following an explosion of what appeared to be a homemade bomb. According to the victim's girlfriend, he had been planning to blow up the entire school before deciding to kill himself instead. Due to the victims being minors, we cannot show their names to the public, however this incident followed 2 other cases which happened at the same school: one involving a girl poisoning herself with drain cleaner, and 2 males killing each other in a gay suicide pact. Hopefully these will teach students a lesson about bullying someone until they wished to kill themselves._

J.D. was speechless. 

"They didn't say the names," Michael took back his phone. "but if you're one of the guys in here-" 

"I think I had a girlfriend. There was this girl I flirted with in a 7-11." J.D. said. "The doctors said I had several burns all over my body when they found me." The pieces fit together. 

"J.D., that means you're legally dead." 

He said nothing. 

"Look J.D., the people who claimed to be doctors were most likely Squipped. Since Jeremy had me to stop the Squip's plan back then, they are probably trying to prevent the same thing from happening again by using people who are legally dead."

"Like, me." J.D. grumbled. "I think I know who the other 3 people are. The two males in the gay suicide pact were probably Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney, the two jocks who beat me up. Kurt was there back where I came from, and tried to get payback for what I did to them by punching my face. When I went snooping around the building I was in, I saw this one girl, named Heather Chandler. Allegedly, she died from drain cleaner poisoning, but it was noted that further evidence suggests a murder, or rather, an attempt at murder. It said on her file that she was still alive."

"That's some screwed up shit right there." Michael said. Despite the situation, J.D. seemed blasé about the entire thing.

J.D. frowned, seemingly in deep thought. "I know there is more to this, like, a whole lot more. Maybe actually _remembering_ my life before this happened would make it a whole lot easier." 

Michael thought for a while. "Wait, if you found a file on what could potentially be a past classmate of yours, there's no reason why there shouldn't be a file about you."

J.D. stared at him. "Are you suggesting I go back in there?" 

"It's worth a try. It seems like your memory was triggered by people you saw in your school back then, which makes perfect sense. So theoretically, you can gain your memory back by rereading your file! Like one of those cutscenes in video games!" 

"Please tell me you're kidding. I can't just _go_ back in there. The moment I step foot in there, I'm a goner." J.D. thought for a moment. "Unless... _You_ can sneak inside."

Michael's eyes widened. "Oh no. No no no no nononono. There are so many ways that plan could go wrong—" 

"You said so yourself that there's a possibility the Squip could be active and is trying to resume its plan. Not only that, the only antidote for that went obsolete nearly 30 years ago. You said you wanted to help me because it would help your friend by extension. I'm asking you for your help right now."

"J.D., I'm a _7-11 employee_. What am I supposed to do?"

"Steal some guy's uniform, sneak in, get my file, find the antidote, then we go." J.D. said. "Frankly, you have a higher chance of not getting killed than I do."

Michael opened his mouth to protest, but then sighed in defeat. "We start tomorrow. Anything else?"

J.D. almost felt sheepish. "Yeah... Now would be a good time to mention that I have no extra clothes, or a place to stay."

* * *

Michael Mell liked to think of himself as a very positive person. He always found the bright side to being the loser. He always found a way to cheer Jeremy up when he was feeling down. Even after Jeremy left him for the popular kids, he forgave him in the end. If he was being honest with himself, he couldn't imagine highschool without Jeremy. He was the player two to his player one; whatever they did, they did it as a team. 

When the news of Jeremy's proposal to Christine reached him, his first reaction was to tell him congratulations, then not talk to him. It was a stupid move, but Michael found that he didn't know what to say to him. As much as he was happy for his friend, the fact that he proposed left an ache in Michael's chest that he couldn't describe. He couldn't talk to Jeremy without feeling like that for some reason. For the next few months after that, he avoided him, ignoring all his calls and texts, only leaving one small email saying he left to find job opportunities and shit. It's a stupid excuse, but Jeremy didn't send anything else after that. Fast forward to the present, he had been working at 7-11 for about 2 years now. 

In other words, he wasn't the confrontational type of person. He wasn't the daring type to rob a bank. He'd rather keep his mouth shut than to cause an argument. 

But now he's here in a discount store, agreeing to help an amnesiac guy who possibly killed himself, somehow survived, and was almost given a Squip break into a building and steal some files and Red Mountain Dew. 

He must be really desperate. 

Michael had given J.D. 20 dollars to spend on clothing. He bought a pack of shirts, 2 pairs of pants, and a black trenchcoat. Michael had no idea why he bought a trenchcoat, but he wasn't in any position to judge him.

"This may sound stupid, but I could probably get us some free food at 7-11. Perks of being an employee." Michael said.

"I'm fine with anything I can eat. I'm starving." J.D. said in reply. 

They entered the store, which was now had some highschool undergraduate as the guy behind the counter. Michael showed him his ID. The guy said to take anything they wanted as long as it doesn't go past 10 dollars.

J.D. helped himself to a hotdog and a blue raspberry Slurpee. Michael took notice.

"I guess I found another person who still likes Slurpees." Michael said. "People don't really buy them anymore."

J.D. shrugged. "Well, another memory came back to me. I used to really like slushies in general. I'd go here nearly every day to get one. I remember going to a 7-11 was the one constant thing in my life."

"I see." Michael got himself a cherry Slurpee. "I frequented 7-11 a lot back then too."

After that, he brought J.D. to his apartment, where he showered, changed, and slept on the couch. Michael then went back to his room. He happened to come across a Polaroid of him and Jeremy on his 16th birthday, where Jeremy had bought Michael a Nintendo Switch. Jeremy was holding the blue Joy-con, while Michael had the red one. 

Michael smiled sadly. _Don't worry Jeremy, I won't let the Squip get to you again. I promise._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, I finally return to this fic after how many months? Apparently I last updated January 2020. Since quarantine for the current pandemic has extended until April 30 in my country, I might as well pick up where I left off. I'm penniless and writing by the seat of my pants here and I only have a vague outline of where the story is going, so once again, constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

It was finally a weekend, and Veronica decided to take a well-deserved rest with Betty. It's been forever since she lay down on the couch to relax.

As she was scrolling through Netflix movies, her phone buzzed with a notification. 

> _**Heather McNamara:** Hey Veronica! Are you free right now? It's been forever since we last saw each other! I was wondering if we could meet up at the mall right now. _

Veronica blinked. It _has_ been quite a while since she last talked to Heather.

"Hey Veronica, you haven't selected anything to watch yet." Betty said. 

"Sorry Betty." Veronica apologized. "Heather McNamara is asking if I'm free right now because she wants to meet up at the nearby mall."

"Heather McNamara? As in head cheerleader, gymnastics-enthusiastic Heather McNamara?" Betty's eyes widened. "I haven't heard from her in years. She was the nice Heather, right?"

"Yeah." Veronica said. "Should I go?"

"What kind of a question is that Veronica?" Betty laughed a little. "Of course you should! Besides, I think you need a break to spend time with other people and, you know, have fun!"

"I guess." Veronica said. "I feel sorry for just leaving you here though."

"It's not a problem!" Betty said. "You deserve to take a break."

> _**Veronica Sawyer:** Sure Heather. Where do we meet? _
> 
> _**Heather McNamara:** Does Starbucks sound good? My treat! And besides, I have someone I want to introduce to you._

* * *

"Veronica! I'm so glad to see you again!" McNamara squealed and gave Veronica a hug.

"Nice to see you too Heather." Veronica replied, a bit startled by the sudden hug. "How's things going for you?"

"It's awesome honestly! But a but stressful at the same time. Taking over my dad's job with selling engagement rings is no small task. On top of that, I get to model the rings!" Heather said. "Well enough talk about me, how about you Veronica?"

"I found a nice stable job as a writer and editor for a news blog. It's nothing like yours, but I'm satisfied with it." Veronica said. "You said you were going to introduce me to someone?"

"Oh! Right." Heather said. "I heard that one of my cousins was visiting here with his friends! He should be here any minute. I thought it would be a good idea to have you meet some new people!" 

_Oh no. It's this again._

"Heather, I swear to God, if this is another set up for a blind date-" 

"What? Pshh. Veronica don't be ridiculous!" Heather said with a nervous laugh. Heather was never a good liar anyway.

"Heather, you've dragged me out every single week back then for this purpose, and I clearly remember you saying those exact same words." Veronica glared at her.

"Well, I— Oh look they're here!" Heather said. "Hi Jake!"

Veronica glanced over to see a small group of 4 people: A guy about her height, who she assumed was Jake because he waved back, another guy whose defining trait was probably his _lack_ of height, and an energetic girl who was dragging another guy along with her—

"Jeremy?" Veronica said in surprise. 

"Oh! Uh, hi Veronica." Jeremy said rather sheepishly. 

"You two know each other?" Heather asked. 

"He's my coworker." Veronica said. 

"Well hello there, I'm Jake Dillinger. You're a friend of Heather?" Jake said. 

Veronica shook his hand. "Yeah, back in high school. If you don't mind me asking, how are you related to Heather? You don't share the same last name."

Thinking the question over, Veronica realized it was a pretty stupid thing to ask. Fortunately for her, Jake didn't mind. 

"Well, my original name was Jake McNamara, and my dad was Heather's uncle, but my mom divorced him, and remarried my current dad, as well as changing my name."

"I see." 

"We're having an introduction? My name's Rich. The four of us were classmates back in highschool." The short guy said. 

"And I'm Christine!" The girl who was with Jeremy said. "By the way, your name is Heather right?" She turned to McNamara. "I absolutely love your outfit! And the rings you sell are pretty gorgeous too!" 

Heather laughed. "Thanks!"

As much as everyone was pretty much getting along, Veronica was growing uncomfortable as the minutes passed. 

"It was nice meeting you all, but I have to go." Veronica said. "I remembered that I need to do something really important."

"Oh, OK then..." Heather said. 

Before they could say anything else, Veronica left. 

_Stupid stupid stupid. Why did she even consider this?_

"You know Veronica, you should really stop blaming others for doing you a favor."

Veronica gave a sharp scream and she swore the passers-by turned to look. She ducked her head and ran off to a corner where no one would see or hear her. 

"What the fuck are you doing here? And right now of all times?" Veronica hissed. 

"I'm reminding you that not everyone is against you Veronica, but apparently you've become so bitchy that you can't even be grateful." The ghost of Heather Chandler said. "Heather goes out of her way trying to help you, and you ditch her just like that? Even I wouldn't stoop that low. You couldn't even make a proper excuse."

"That's none of your business Heather. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"I was going to try and _help_ , but apparently you 'don't need it.' "

"Cut the bullshit Heather. _Help me?_ Since when did you care to do that?"

"Did you forget everything I did for you back in highschool? If I wasn't there, you would be digging your highschool diploma from the trash." Heather Chandler rolled her eyes. 

"Will you stop reminding me about highschool Heather? You didn't help me back then and you aren't helping me now. Now just go away! People think I'm a lunatic for talking to you!" Veronica said. 

"My fault again? How pathetic Veronica." Heather scoffed. "You know, I can tell you over and over again how _wrong_ your decisions are, and you can deny them over and over as many times, but that doesn't change the fact they happened, and that they're severely affecting your judgment to the point of sheer stupidity. You can only hide for so long..."

Veronica was about to scream at Heather again, but she disappeared before she could do so. Veronica realized how much she was shaking. 

_Heather is right. Stop denying it._ Her conscience said. 

"I really am going crazy aren't I?" Veronica mumbled to herself. "My imagination must be really, really vivid."

She went to a nearby convenience store and bought herself a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, she blew puffs of smoke and watched them fade in the air. She'd used cigarettes as a coping mechanism for a while, but she forced herself to buy them only when the situation was really bad after her mom had scolded her for doing so. 

_This will all blow over soon. Just say everything is alright for a bit longer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part about Jake and Heather Mac being related was from this skit called "The One Thing You Can't Replace" and there's a Heathers and BMC animatic of it.


End file.
